


Strings over Toffees

by Animeginiger



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Fluff, M/M, Red String of Fate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-06-12 13:00:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15340395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Animeginiger/pseuds/Animeginiger
Summary: When Draco accidentally helps out a little old lady, she gives him an unexpected gift. The ability to find his soulmate. But what happens when the person Draco finds was the person he least expected it to be?First AOU Fic and would greatly appreciate feedback and comments!





	1. Prologue

To clear a few misconceptions, Draco wasn’t a kind soul. A cunning soul. A devious soul. That was more like him. So when he politely asked the crinkly old lady who dropped her bag that he wished for no reward, he didn’t expect her to force the gift upon him. Now, this wasn’t a typical bag of rock toffees, which he had been expecting and god does Draco hate toffee, but rather a very peculiar gift; one that changed his life.


	2. An Unexpected Gift

It started one ordinary morning in Draco’s rather pleasant life. Summer break had hit a few weeks ago, so Draco was off school and spending his free time languidly. First, he slept in and woke up lazily at seven in the morning; Draco’s definition of lazy was a bit different. Then after producing a cup of earl gray, he read one of his favorite books written by the author  _H.S. Evans_. Mr. Evans was Draco’s favorite author and his stories were dark and foreboding, yet strangely realistic and relatable. Especially the way he wrote his characters so real and almost tangible, he had Draco falling in love with every word within those books. Currently, though, Draco was enraptured by a novel, one of Mr. Evans’s darker books, which were about two destined lovers and he had just checked it out of the library. But as soon he made it to the first few pages, his phone rang loudly. Draco glanced over to his sleek black phone that was currently sending out low dings and reached for it with one hand. He turned it on and saw a notification on his home screen;  _Go Grocery Shopping_.

 Draco groaned, he had placed a reminder yesterday after he had gone to eat something and found the fridge bare, but it had completed slipped his mind. Draco sat in his plushy maroon loveseat and contemplated going out in his current outfit. While a pair of expensive bamboo cloth sweatpants and a silk shirt was definitely an upgrade from normal college students, Draco couldn’t help the itch he got whenever he didn’t dress well when he went outside, also a well-ingrained habit from his childhood. Malfoys always looked their best, according to his prim and proper mother. So Draco heaved himself up from his seat with a grunt and went to file through his wardrobe for something decent to wear.

Were red and yellow potatoes the same thing? At home, Draco didn’t really have much experience with cooking, but at college he didn’t really have a choice and somethings still stumped him. So while he stood in the middle of fresh foods section, clutching two different colored potatoes in his hand dumbly, his  _favorite_  person popped by.

 “Malfoy,” came a cold greeting from a person behind him.

Draco’s heart clenched and he turned around stiffly to meet the boy who addressed him. “Potter,” he sneered, meeting those green eyes behind those thin sliver rims. If a passerby were to walk by, they wouldn’t notice a thing and even perhaps muse about how lovely the faces of the boys were. But, if they got closer by chance, they would with no doubt notice the waves of animosity rolling off the boys and the stiff smiles that formed on their faces.

 Draco couldn’t stand Potter since the day he first talked to him in freshman year. Right from the start, Potter was an insanely popular and outgoing person, and everyone loved him. Sure that was quite different from Draco’s “snarky and solitary” persona, but Draco didn’t mind and tended to ignore him, that is until Harry made a comment on his hair one day. He was standing in line to get a cucumber-apple-ginger juice at the juice bar and minding his own business when he overheard a voice from behind him.

“Nice hair Malfoy.”

Insulted deeply, Draco turned around to see a boy slightly taller than him with a pair of hideous round black glasses and a dopey smile. Now everyone has experienced that one hauntingly bad hairdo in their life, and for Draco, it was that freshmen year with the gelled hair that made him look like an 80’s gangster. But that gave no right to anyone, especially the boy whose glasses literally swallowed his face, to have a say in it. So naturally, Draco responded with how he would; a nasty remark.

“And what about you Potter? Was your eyesight so bad that you had to have picked those glasses?”

Potter turned a deep shade of red and walked away that day, but as you could see, their relationship only worsened.

So now stood in the produce section of the store, glaring at each other from across a cart while Draco clutched two potatoes in his hands. Draco wished he really didn’t have to deal with the git over the break, but apparently, he was also staying over at the campus.

Draco, being the very kind soul he was, dryly remarked at Harry’s presence. “What happened to you, Potter? I thought around this time you would be contaminating the Caribbean Sea. Did your friends finally kick you out?” He looked over to Potter, expecting a glare and a snarl of a reply, but instead, he got a quite dead look. Draco blinked a few times when he noticed Potter didn’t have an immediate rude reply and just stared at him, he wondered if everything was alright with him. He shifted uncomfortably and thought maybe his outfit looked bad, but the bastard in front of him wouldn’t know the difference from a Burberry coat and one from a cheap vendor, so Draco let out a little huff and straightened his soft cream-colored cashmere shirt. Yet, as he double took on Potter’s tight and dull gray shirt and jeans, he found that Potter still managed to make cheap and unfashionable look good; it made Draco grind his teeth.

But then, the idiot finally found his words and grumbled, “Hermione and Ron started dating. I didn’t want to third wheel the entire trip.”

Ah. Granger and Weasel had finally gotten together, but it honestly was a no-brainer. Anyone could see from a mile away the amount of chemistry those two had and it was no surprise that Potter wouldn’t want to go on a solitary trip with them. Strangely, Draco could feel a little sympathy brew in himself, because he had faced a quite similar situation when Blaise and Pansy had started dating. But that didn’t mean that Draco became his personal therapist.

“Well then,” Draco cried cheerfully, breaking the silence and throwing both of the potatoes in his cart. For some reason, Glum Potter was making a very Cheerful Draco; he really was an awful person. Draco pushed at his cart to escape the narrow aisle as he bid Potter goodbye, “It was lovely seeing you again Potter. Hope you don’t stay too lonely this summer.” With that, he was gone and moving on to the next aisle.

Once Draco had his cart full of necessary ingredients and foods, and maybe a few Oreos, and he checked them all out, Draco head out clutching two large brown bags. That’s when an old woman who was hobbling past him tripped and hit the ground, spilling her handbag. Now, these were some rude people who simply looked away and walked forward, but Draco couldn’t, not when there was the prospect of Potter being right behind him and Draco had to show him his innate kindness. So, Draco bent down, grabbed one of her wrinkly bony hands, and slowly helped her up, and then bent down to bring her a purse. He handed her the small maroon floral purse with a smile and the old lady smiled back, her hands clutching the purse.

“Thank you, my dear,” she croaked, her hands trembling slightly.

Draco let out a nonchalant shrug and instead let out a gentlemanly bow, “It was my pleasure, Ma’am.”

The lady blushed through her pale skin, “I must give you a gift young man.”

Now Draco knew from experience with his elderly grandmother that a gift meant extra hard pieces of wrapped toffee, and Draco despised toffee with all his heart after one certain Halloween mishap. Draco gulped and shook his head, “There is no need Ma’am, please.”

“Nonsense, you have such a kind soul,” she said shaking her head and began to look through her purse, “Now where did I put it.”

Now Draco was beginning to get some nasty stares from the people in the entrance way as they seemed to be blocking the exit way, so he hauled up his bags and nudged the lady a little. “Um Ma’am,” he spoke politely, “let us go outside, we seem to be blocking the doors.”

The little old lady looked up a little and nodded in agreement before rushing outside. After a few minutes, Draco contemplated dashing from there but then, the old lady held out an exclamation and pulled something out. Finally, Draco thought and reached to hold out his left hand, but the old lady, with some incredible strength, grabbed his right hand. Draco panicked a little, “Um, excuse me, but what are you doing.”

He couldn’t see clearly but the lady seemed to be wrapping something on his pinky finger, and from the rough thin feeling of it, string. And indeed when she finally let go of his hand, Draco frantically pulled back to see a string, the color of bright red, tied delicately. He looked up to see the end of the string, but gasped when he noticed that it didn’t end. Instead, it wound around the lady, a shopping cart, and past the doors leading inside.

Draco shrieked, “What is this!” His fingers desperately tried to undo the knot with no avail, it wouldn’t budge.

The woman smiled, deep crinkles forming on the side of her eyes, “It’s a gift. One that people would die for.” Draco looked up in horror but she shook her head, wispy gray strands falling from her tight bun. “Don’t you worry dear, nobody will notice this old thing but you, and it’s quite powerful you know.” She leaned towards Draco, who was still in shock and whispered, “On the other end of it, you are supposed to meet your soulmate.”

Draco eyes widened, a soulmate, which was only rumored in stories, was a significant other that fit the person perfectly- two people made for each other he supposed. His heart clenched, and Draco looked down on his pale hands, “I am sorry but you are mist… what!” The lady disappeared. Draco looked wildly around but she was nowhere to be seen and the string was still pulled taunt passed the doors. Draco started jogging to the doors, hoping he could find her in there, but in his panic, his foot caught a crack in the pavement, and he went tumbling down.

Draco groaned, his hands rubbing uncomfortably against the rough pavement and catching most of his fall. He shut his eyes, willing himself to be calm, and told himself that on the count of ten, he would get up and calmly assess the situation.

But he never got to ten because when his count was on five, he heard a low baritone and familiar voice.

“Malfoy, is everything alright?”

Draco opened his eyes to see Potter’s concerned face and he moved to shake him off, like hell he would ever accept any help from that bloated beaver. But his eyes caught something red on Potter’s peach-colored skin. A red string rested on his left hand’s pinky, but he didn’t notice it.

Potter’s dark eyebrows scrunched together as he looked where Draco was looking but saw nothing. “Is there something on my hand Malfoy?”

But Draco wasn’t listening to him, because his eyes were busy following the red string, which had shrunk so the end of it was connected to Draco. Draco just stared at the space in between their fingers and at the red string hanging loosely in between them.

For the first time in his life, Draco wished she had just given him a toffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment!


	3. Chapter 3

Draco went through five scissors. He first used the cheap ones found in the sale section of Target, then the tiny ones from the sewing kit, the metal ones meant to trim hair, the insanely sharp gardening scissors, and finally his prized pure silver scissors. But each time, the tiny string on his finger would not cut.

“What is this bloody thing made of?” Draco internally screamed as the string would only snap back into place once he released the scissors. He groaned and slammed the scissors on the table, putting his hands over his eyes.

Draco knew this had to be a prank; he knew for a fact that magic didn’t exist. Even if it did, there was no such thing as a soulmate in the world because everyone eventually fell apart and if it did exist, there was no bloody way that Harry fucking Potter was it. But as he opened his eyes and stared at the red string that disappeared around the corner, he felt everything he believed in slowly starting to crumble.

Draco’s eye caught the cover of one of his more decorative books on the coffee table, _Alice in Wonderland_. How relatable, Draco thought, my world has been turned topsy-turvy save for the fact that there were no rabbit holes or decks of card. But, he surmised with a scowl, he did have that ugly scar head. Normally Draco didn’t pick on people’s scars, Potty or not, but this called for special attention.

Draco supposed he had moped around enough and he couldn’t spend his entire life like this so he put together a plan. He was to return to the store next week because that is when people ideally return to do their shopping, track down the old lady, and demand to know how to undo the stupid soulmate curse. Until then, he was going to have to deal with the thing with utmost calmness and sensibility like a good Malfoy.

He was having a bit of trouble on the last part.                              

But no worries because Draco knew exactly how to fix his problems- with a classic outing. When Draco finally got away from the prying eyes of his family in college, he decided to explore a little more, something he never got to do under the strict teachings of his parents. In fact, one of the reasons he picked Hogwarts University was because of the perfect mix of natural and urban beauty around it, and the surrounding towns were just absolutely beautiful to explore. So Draco put on his favorite gray Steve Madden shoes, and grabbing his phone and wallet, he left his cozy abode.

***

Fate was a fickle thing.

As soon as Draco left his apartment, he headed down to his favorite town, Hogsmeade. Draco had to admit, this particular area had loads of odd names, but all would be forgotten once a person saw the charm that came with it. Rows of small wooden buildings with signs creaking above the door and people bustling in and out filled the town with warmth and joy. A small harbor rested towards the end of the town and Draco head there first, enjoying the smell of the ocean and the salty spray of the boats at the docks. The sunlight glinted off of the calm waters that day, and Draco held up his phone to take shots of the scene. During on particular close up of a seagull, he felt a tug on his finger. Draco mindlessly looked down, before realizing with an annoyance, it was the string. He followed the string with his eyes past the small fishing shack behind him and stared at it for a few minutes. At first, nothing happened, then it moved. Like a gentle ripple and Draco felt his finger tug at the sensation.

“Did this thing finally break,” Draco muttered as he stashed the phone away and walked over to investigate. He merely stepped behind the shack when he bumped headfirst into somebody’s nose.

Draco yelped as he fell dramatically onto the cobblestone path and grimaced as rubbed his forehead, not minding the fact that it had probably been his fault to start with and that the other person was probably in more pain.

“Malfoy! Oh god! Are you alright?” exclaimed an all too familiar voice.

Draco scowled, and not because of the pain. He couldn’t believe that he had to see this idiot twice in a day. “What the hell Potter,” he snapped, still rubbing his forehead but now glaring up at the boy with glasses.

“Sorry, I didn’t see you there,” Potter winced and held out a hand.

Draco, dumbfounded at the apology, stared at the hand for a moment before shaking it off and getting up by himself. He straightened his shirt and brushed off the dirt on his blue jeans before addressing Potter. “I can’t believe I got to see you again, once was bad enough,” he muttered just loud enough for Potter to hear, “And what are you doing here.”

Potter blinked for a few seconds, but then supposed that this was a conversation and replied rather cheerfully for being Draco’s archenemy, “I suppose the same thing you are doing. I was bored and wanted to look around. Hogsmeade is my favorite town so I decided to stop by.”

Draco huffed, not wanting to admit that he actually shared the same interest as a person he hates, and moved to walk away. But before he could leave, Potter stopped him.

“Wait, Malfoy!”

“What?” Draco snapped impatiently.

Potter looked at him curiously and blushed a little, which made Draco blink once again. Potter was _blushing_ at him, Draco felt his cheeks grow warm and he adjusted his shirt again nervously. “I actually have a favor to ask,” Potter asked nervously, fidgeting with glasses, taking them off and wiping the glass. Draco really wishes he didn’t do that because then his eyes would grow bigger and _greener_ and Draco really hated that.

“Well, what is it,” Draco hissed, feeling even more uncomfortable and fidgety, “We don’t have all day you-”

“I need your help shopping for new clothes.”

Only the wind could be heard for a second before the blood rushed to Draco’s head and his chest swelled up with pride. He folded his arms and with a wide smug smile he addressed Potter, “Are you saying that I dress better and look better than you, Potter?”

Potter started to decline those exact words, but the look on Draco’s face had him amend his statement. “Whatever you want to think. Look, I can’t think twice about what I want to wear in the morning but there is this bl- _person_ I would like to impress and Ginny told me that nobody would ever go out with me if I ever stuck to what I was wearing now

“So I asked her if she could help me, but she declined to say she had someplace to go with Dean and told me that I should ask for your help.”

Ginny Weasley. Now, Draco loathed Ron Weasley, Potter’s right-handed man, and vice versa, but he loved Ginny Weasley, Ron’s sister, and Harry’s ex. Even though she broke up with Harry a long time ago, they stayed really good friends and she was the one person Draco could handle from Harry’s group. It started when they were paired up for a project in one of their classes and with Ginny being strong and bold, Draco fell in love with her immediately. Those two practically became bosom friends, if that term was even used anymore, and she was even the first person that Draco outed himself to, not regretting the decision either due to the insane amounts of support he got from her afterward. So when Potter brought that name up, Draco felt he had no choice to accept because of all the help Ginny had given him.

So Draco sighed and gave Potter an annoyed look before saying, “Ok, fine. I will help you because God knows _someone_ needs to help burn those clothes of yours, but,” he paused, “Remember that I am not doing this for _you_ , but rather Ginny. I don’t want you getting any ideas that we are actually getting along or anything.”

Potter nodded and agreed brightly, “Ok deal. So where first.”

“I have an idea,” Draco muttered and walked off, motioning Potter to follow him, and studiously ignored the red string that glinted deviously in the light.


	4. Chapter 4

Clothes had always been a longtime passion for Draco. As a young boy, being stuck in the manor, fencing and history had been his favorite subjects. But gradually, as he grew up, he would see men’s suits and women’s dresses in the older days and marvel at what an impact it made in history. How clothing changed in the wartime, how it evolved into the most ridiculous and extravagant pieces in times of prosperity, and how someone could be classified by what they wore- this all fascinated him. In fact, Draco’s deepest wish was to major in fashion, but after learning that not a lot of men enrolled into the subject and that there was no other heir for the Malfoy business, he quickly let go of his dream.

His family had been running the Malfoy business since the time of his ancestors in the 1800s and peaked at the time of his great-great grandfather’s ownership. Originally, the business was a small local silverware business, but when Andrivius Malfoy got his hands on it, it boomed and spread far and wide, to the Americas and Asia, and made the Malfoy name big in two years. He was a legend, a greatly respected person in the Malfoy family, and Draco knew he could live up to it.

So when he gets a model as _fitting_ as Potter, though he would never admit it to himself, he couldn’t help but let himself be immersed in this small joy. For starters, Potter had a tall and sturdy build which wasn’t too bulky either which made him the ideal model, and his jet black hair and green eyes created such a contrast that Draco could not stop from bounding into clothes that would pair beautifully with it.

 He also had a bad habit of mumbling when he got excited.

“Green? Only on the lapels.”

“How about palm trees, that’s a classic.”

“Blue? No, it would clash dreadfully with the yellow.”

“Who put hexagons on a shirt?” Draco muttered distastefully, holding up an ugly maroon shirt with white hexagons that was an awful attempt to be “modern”, “they must have lost their mind and trashed it back into the 1980s.”

“I rather like it,” Potter interceded and Draco turned to a glare of him, aware of his audience.

“And your opinions is the reason why I am here right now,” Draco pointed out and resumed to rifling through the racks of shirts. After a few more moments of browsing and shooing away annoyingly helpful clerks, Draco had built up a nice pile of clothes.

“Do I have to try on all of these,” Harry gulped, his eyes widening behind his glasses as he took in the size of the pile that held pants, shirts, blazers, and _did he see leather in there?_

“Shut up. Your whining is unbecoming,” Draco fumed, and glancing at the pile with satisfaction, reassured Potter, “Malkin’s has the one of the best selection I have seen in all of Europe.” Then, grabbing an outfit he put together, Draco motioned to the pristine fitting rooms and said, “Now come on.” But, at seeing Potter’s nervousness, he smirked, “That is,” he added, snickering, “If you would like to change out here. I am sure everyone would love to see a show.”

Potter blushed red and snatched the clothes from Draco’s hand and marched over to the changing room, slamming it shut. Draco grinned like the Cheshire Cat when he heard a mumble of curses that followed and he took a seat himself on the white couch, which had been placed facing the center of the room for the purpose of waiting for the people changing. Potter must be head over heels for whoever it is, he mused, for him to be doing this, it must be killing his pride right now. But, that didn’t mean that Draco wasn’t mad for getting roped into this, and he planned to confront the mind behind this plan. Taking out his phone from his jeans he opened up Ginny’s number and texted her.

[Are you available right now?]

[GinGin<3: Yes. whats up babe]

[Don’t babe me you evil witch. Why on the planet did you tell Potter to shop with me? Now I am stuck with the idiot in a GODDAMN STORE.]

[GinGin<3: WAIT, HE FINALLY GOT THE GUTS TO ASK YOU. YES]

[What the fuck do you mean by “ask me”? Are you insane? Did your tendency to drink too much at bars finally get to your head?]

[GinGin<3: woAH, it was ONE time Dray. Besides, if u rly hated the idea then why didn’t u just say no]

Draco glowered at the phone and texted back furiously.

[Because, if I had said no, you would kill me.]

[GinGin<3: that I would, but even then, you couldve just been like, later. Draco, just admit it, you have a thing for Harry.]

At this Draco let out such a loud yelp that several customers looked his way, wondering what had happened. His heart raced as he read the accusation over a few times.

“Malfoy? If everything all right?” Potter asked concerned, his voice slightly muffled behind the door.

“Yeah…yes…yes, I-I am fine.” Draco stammered before frantically tapping away on his phone screen, his hands on the verge of shaking from anger.

[Shut up! That is it, I am not talking to you any longer. How dare you even mention this! Do you understand how LONG I have hated him for? He is the rudest ugliest person I would ever have the discomfort of meeting! In fact, that’s it, I am changing your contact name too, and I had it on purely for your sake, but you are back to Ginevra.]

[Ginvera: Wut!!!!! Noooooo, plz don’t. It took me so long to finally change that!]

Draco swiped the Do Not Disturb button under Ginny’s contacts before closing his phone and tossing it onto the chair next to him. Considering Ginny’s one of his best friends, he couldn’t stay mad forever, but still, she knew better than to say false and preposterous things about him. Draco, for the first time since they got here, properly looked at the string. It practically glowed when he put an ounce of thought into it and hardly ever left his eye, taunting him. Draco sighed, he really needed to undo this he thought as he watched the string disappear under the door.

Even though Draco strangely never went through that denial of Potter being his possible soulmate, Draco knew that he could never be with someone like him. Potter was messy, untidy, always had his head in another place, and too social for Draco’s taste. To top it off, he was a rude as fuck to Draco, though Draco suspiciously noted that he was rather silent lately.

He could never remotely like him.

“I am done,” yelled Potter from the inside.

Draco muttered impatiently, startled from his musings, and sat up. “What took you so long,” he said a little louder, “I didn’t imagine you were so dumb that you couldn’t dress. Maybe I should send in help next time.”

“Har, har, har,” Potter mocked, “All of these strings just took me a while to fix. I actually think it looks pretty good.”

Draco scoffed as he heard the door being unlocked. Potter had a pretty good body, and Draco admits that his choice of clothes would make that hot mess look way better. But when it boils down to the end, nothing could truly help the hopeless case known as Harry Pott- fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the reviews! You guys really made me happy! I hope you enjoyed this chapter :D


	5. Chapter 4

Black wasn’t Draco’s color it was fair to say, and he had his eyes on this piece for a while. But holy hell it was definitely Potter’s.

A special pair of canvas black suspenders was what he was wearing. Special because elastic bands on the inside of the pants (or which Potter referred to as “strings”) supported the wearer so that the pants were tight fitting, but still had a loose waist. And that allowed for Draco to shove a white collared shirt and a light gray sweater vest under the striped straps. But good lord he could pull it off.

Even his square silver glasses mutinously glinted in the light and the bright green eyes that shone dazzlingly from under it looked questioningly at Draco.

“Everything alright? Did I screw up on something?” Potter asked worriedly, snapping Draco out of his trance.

“Uh, yes. I don’t-” Draco broke off when he felt his face and _why was he so hot_.

“Are you sure, you look really red mate.”

“Oh shut up!” Draco nearly shrieked and chucked another outfit at him before ordering him back into the stall, Potter following it reluctantly.

Draco blamed the hot face for too many occurrences. Firstly, the whole soulmate attraction crap and secondly, Ginny’s accusation. He didn’t like Potter, it was just that the string of events was making him think he did, and that is all just mind games. Draco wasn’t a gullible figure, he was a Malfoy.

But for some reason, his confidence was wavering a bit.

“So should I get the first outfit,” Potter’s loud and curious voice rang out from the stall, snapping Draco once again back into reality.

Draco froze, forgetting his train of thought for a minute before unintentionally spotting the red string. It tends to come into your line of vision. He didn’t know what came over him, but he reached out with a shaky hand and gently touched the end of the string, and jolted at the feel of the coarse material. A feeling exploded in his chest and Draco couldn’t explain it, nor did he want to, but he couldn’t help it overwhelm him. So he gently stroked the small string and said softly to the man behind the door, “Yes. It looked nice on you.”

A loud crash from the dressing room followed by a chortling noise broke Draco’s concentration. What the hell, he thought, was Potter okay? But he shrugged it off and went on his phone, tying it to maybe the fact that Potter was trying on one of the leather chokers.

They spent an hour in the dressing room, shirts after shirts and pants after pants until Draco had built up a pile considerably smaller than the one they started with. He beckoned at one on the employees flitting around the racks and ordered them to take the small mountain of clothes to the checkout.

“You could be nicer you know,” Potter quietly noted as he shuffled on his lame coat, which Draco noted had to be changed at one point too.

Draco sniffled at the remark but on the inside knew that Potter may have had a point. But, he grumbled as he adjusted his windbreaker, who was he to listen to a man who never gave him the slightest kind gesture from the moment he saw him.

“I am heading out,” Draco announced suddenly, wondering to himself briefly as to what was the point of the statement before frantically covering it up, “And I don’t expect any thanks!”

Potter blinked behind his glasses a few times before coughing. “Erm, yeah,” he said quietly before proceeding to mumble a few sentences.

“What,” Draco addressed him annoyed, “I couldn’t hear a word you said.”

Potter regained his composure and loudly said, “I know you don’t want thanks, but still would like to. Please allow me to treat you… to lunch!”

Draco gritted his teeth and shoved his hands into his coat pocket. There was no way he was going to spend more than what he had to with this numbskull, so Draco moved to say no. But as his lips opened, he caught a glint in Potter’s emerald eyes and instead a very different word came out, “Yes.”

Potter’s face relaxed and Draco didn’t realize how tensed up it had been, and an easy smile spread across his face. “Lovely,” he murmured before brushing past Draco and exiting the fitting room.

Christ, why was Draco burning up! Perhaps he’d better use it as an excuse to tell Potter he couldn’t do the lunch after all, but the image of Potter’s smile flashed in his face and Draco couldn’t find the strength. So instead he huffed and left the fitting room.

At the checkout, Potter flashed his fancy black card, which Draco was still astounded by. He knew Potter came from old money, but couldn’t fathom how someone with so much wealth and power had such small knowledge as to how to dress decently. Then they each grabbed the large white paper bag and left the store, heading over the nearest restaurant.

* * *

 

It was a tiny classy little pub with amusing patrons, but Draco still loved it. The insides were surprisingly clean and tidy, the tables were wooden and endearing, and an unusual smell of warm butterscotch filled the entire room. It had such a whimsical feeling to it.

Potter squinted as he read the large bolded sign, “The Three Broomsticks. What an odd name.”

Draco grinned, “Name’s don’t really matter in the end. Wait till you taste their specialty drink.”

So two unlikely pair went in and seated themselves on the table, setting the bags to the side of them, and waited silently for the server.

Indeed the place was exactly as Draco recalled, with the high ceiling and cheery portraits hung about, and the exuberant hum of a jig playing against the clinks of beer bottles and laughs.

But, he wished the atmosphere enveloped the space in which he sat because currently, it was as though he had entered into a particular box of stifling air. Draco hummed under his breath and played with the edge of his glass, feeling uncomfortable under Potter’s stare as his finger traced the smooth material. But luckily he was saved by the waitress who greeted them almost instantly.

She was a short plump woman with rosy cheeks and dark red curls floundering behind her. She merrily greeted them and whilst pouring water into their glasses, offered them their menus and told them to think on their orders.

“No need,” Potter smoothly declined and he looked at Draco, “He will order for me.” And on the behalf of Draco and his alarmed expression, he added, “Order what you like.”

The waitress expectedly turned her head towards Draco as he nearly spluttered. Ordering for Potter, what did he think this was, a date? Had he no class or respect, how was Draco supposed to know what he would like?

But instead or refusing, he huffed and ordered, “Two Butterbeers and Chickpie slices.” Fine, he would order what he liked, but that meant that Potter had to shut up and eat what he was given.

The waitress dipped her head and left them once again alone. Potter watched after her for a few moments before turning his head to Draco and asking curiously, “what did you order?”

“You will see,” snapped Draco, still a bit annoyed. But Potter didn’t relent.

“Butterbeer? What is that?” he wondered. Draco was going to retort at him again but when he saw Potter’s innocent and pleading face, he broke.

“Butterbeer is their specialty drink,” Draco muttered, not meeting Potter’s sparkling eyes, “Kind of like a root beer float, but with a warm fizzy butterscotch drink instead and a cool vanilla whip.”

“Mmmm,” Potter hummed in appreciation, “You make it sound so good.”

Draco blushed, “That’s because it is,” he said defensively.

“Yeah, but it isn’t as easy to give a descriptive explanation on the spot, It’s quite hard. In fact,” he mused on, much to Draco’s annoyance, “You must be rather good with kids.”

Draco ignored him and his weird analysis, instead opting to observed the paintings that hung from the wall. There were quite a few paintings that depicted scenes of merry drunkards and lusty women or of family meals with heaps of food. But his eyes strayed to one in the corner, his favorite and perhaps the one that stood out the most.

It was a pair of lovers, a muscled man, and a woman. They sat on a swing serenely in a vineyard, like they were trapped in their own world. The woman wore a white cotton chiffon that fell from her shoulders as her pearly white hands gripped her lover’s taunt arms, her brown curls pressed delicately against his shoulder. Whereas the man gripped the twines and rope with one hand, and pulled her closer to him with the other, his tan fingers pressed against the white skin.

Draco loved that painting. The amount of passion and beauty that was in it, it was as if the painting breathed and moved. They must have been in so much love, Draco wondered as he retraced the fingers that gripped the bare waist. His breath caught in his throat and decided to look elsewhere, regretting it when he accidentally caught Potter’s stare.

Potter was staring intently at him with hands folded under his chin, and Draco blushed. “What,” he snapped, fiddling with his sweater.

“Nothing,” Potter replied but then added soon after a bit nervously, “Hey Malfoy, do you hate me?”

Draco paused only for a brief moment before replying curtly, “Yes.” There was no use beating around the bush, it was plain as day as to how Draco felt about Potter. The rude remarks in the exchanges, the silent glares in the library, they all were quite clear on the subject of Draco’s feelings.

 So Draco folded his hands on his lap and waited for Potter’s reply, but all Potter said was, “Okay.”

Okay. Okay. That was it! A year and a half of rivalries and all that half-wit crumbled cracker could say was okay. That was hardly what Draco expected and for some reason, it left him with a nasty itch in his heart, as if he was dying for a fight with Potter. But instead, he gritted his teeth and watched the tiny band play until their food came, praying it came soon.

But when it did come, Draco found he didn’t exactly have an appetite, so he instead requested the food to be put into a to-go box and opted to sip the Butterbeer, hoping it would fix him up. And it did, to an extent. The semisweet frothy vanilla cream at the top and the warm liquid that fizzled in his mouth definitely cheered him up a bit, warming him up at the core, and he was sure he had a stupid smile plastered on his face. But luckily Potter was too busy scarfing down his food to look at him.

“This is so good,” he moaned into his fourth forkful of the pie making Draco smirk with triumph.

“What did I tell you,” he grinned as he took a sip of his Butterbeer.

After the Potter had finished his meal and Draco, his drink, the check was called for and once again the two dissolved into silence. But while Draco looked out into the window, watched as the cold crept up on the window pane in the form of fog, Potter spoke up in a soft tone.

“Malfoy.”

Draco looked at him, “Yeah.”

“I don’t hate you.”

At those four words, the empire Draco’s built came crumbling down from the top. It was as if somebody had told him that the world he believed in was all a lie and that nothing existed because it all was blown away to dust. Draco’s widened and his mouth opened to accuse Potter of all the remarks he made to him despite the statement he’d made, but Potter quickly fixed that.

“I did hate you, once, but that time is gone. Long gone. I hope you understand.” Then with those breathtaking eyes, he glanced at Draco through his lashes and bid him a good day. “I hope we can be friends.”

Then with a swing of his legs, he clambered out of the small booth, grabbed the bags and his card from the check, and left the restaurant. His exit making a small jingle in the noisy room, but Draco just sat there frozen in shock. What in bloody hell had just happened?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, Jennifer Lopez, MinMinh, and insanenobaka for commenting. Your comments really helped me write and I loved them. Thank you sooooo much!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! Please leave feedback or a comment, I would love to improve!


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